Harley & Ivy: Second Seed
by shany94a
Summary: After a major falling-out, where everything was not exactly as it appeared to be, can Gotham's baddest gal pals reconcile? Or are Harley & Ivy finished? COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story refers to events from the animated Batman television show and recent "Batman Adventures" comics, but don't worry if you haven't seen or read them all. Batman, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and all related characters are the property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. Batman created by Bob Kane. No profit was sought or received by the author for this fictional story, all you lawyers out there. Comments are welcome, as this is my first fan-fic - thanks and let me know what you think!

HARLEY & IVY: SECOND SEED

"Harley? Is that you?"

The female voice on the other end of the phone was sweet and familiar, but it irked Harley Quinn all the same.

It was Poison Ivy. It had to be. And it was all Harley could do to keep her fury down.

"Is that you, Red?" Harley managed to get out through clenched teeth.

"It's me, Harls!" The voice was unusually cheerful, in contrast to Harley's own voice - fake her delight as the Joker's moll might.

"Well, where ya been, baby?!" squeaked the psychotic little blonde." We haven't talked in like, ages!"

"I know, Harley, I know." The voice sounded almost apologetic now. "I'm sorry I've been out of touch. There's a lot I need to tell you, Harls – a lot. Can we get together tonight? I promise I'll tell you everything."

Silence followed on the other end for just a moment, as Harley tried to keep a lid on her emotions, which for her wasn't normally easy, and even more so right now.

"Sure, Red," she rolled off her tongue, still trying to sound jovial. "You remember that little flat I had on the outskirts of Gotham, over the old greenhouse ya used to use? Why dontcha drop by tonight about nine, and then you can tell me everything like ya said?!"

"That's fine, Harls, that's fine," came a relieved voice on the other end, thankful to be taken seriously, and thankful Harley hadn't switched phone numbers. "I'll see you then!"

"Buh-bye!" chirped Harley, and then both cell phones went off. Harley dropped hers to the floor, with more than a little flick of the wrist. She stood there in a white t-shirt, socks and red sweatpants, motionless at first. Almost imperceptibly, she started to shake, arms and hands tingling, and then she got a full-blown case of the shakes, her fury raging almost out of control, her teeth grinding together so hard her jaw actually hurt, and the sheer hatred in her moist eyes frightening.

"Oh, you'll tell me everything alright, Red," she managed to stammer. "Right before I friggin kill ya!"

She fondled the automatic lying on the arm of the couch, cradling it and wondering just where she would place the shot when the time came ...


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn't been home in a while, and already Pamela Isley was feeling uncomfortable being back in Gotham City. The bayou had been so much more peaceful, and coming back now after a few years was literally rejoining a rat race, rats and all prowling the dark corridors and alleyways of this city that always seemed to be on the cusp of darkness. She would have been happy to have never set foot again in this urban blight, being a child of warmth and light like her beloved plants, but she felt that after all this time, she finally owed Harley Quinn an explanation.

Especially since that night several months ago where her vegetable duplicate had shown up and died on her doorstep, in the lab she shared with equally-brilliant botanist Dr. Alec Holland. The duplicate she had grown a couple of years back and let take her place in Gotham, to battle The Batman, keep Harley Quinn company and allow Ivy herself to build a new life of her own, far from Arkham and Blackgate and all the other places she had done time for her ecological indiscretions. She had wanted no part of that existence anymore, and after spending so many months incarcerated at one place or another, she just wanted to live out her life in Louisiana with her beloved plants, and with Alec.

Pamela hadn't actually seen her duplicate die – she came in just after it had expired in Alec's arms, leaving mud and residue all over his white lab coat – and truth be told, she was surprised it had lasted as long as it did. Normally her duplicates were good for just a matter of days, but this one had been her crowning achievement, had been designed to live for years with all her memories and impulses intact, acting just like she would have. Nothing lasts forever, though, and she couldn't shake the feeling that the clone had experienced some sort of dramatic trauma before it finally collapsed into mulch on the lab floor.

She had cleaned up with Alec's help, laying the clone to rest in the Louisiana soil, and gotten back to her botanical business – but truth be told, she had missed Harley all this time. She had been wondering what would happen to her gal pal when the "Ivy" she had known the last few years never returned to Gotham again; and if there was one other person that Pamela Isley cared about in all the world, other than Alec Holland, it was the former Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

I lied to her, Isley thought. I know I just wanted her to be happy, and to keep the Bat off my back, but I lied to Harley. I felt it was safer to just replace myself instead of telling her I was leaving, so no one could wring the information out of her – not Batman, not Gordon, and definitely not The Joker. If for nothing than to salve her own conscience, Isley wanted to see Harley face-to-face and tell her the whole truth now that "Ivy" was dead and buried. There would be no need to mention Louisiana by name; the real and retired Ivy just didn't want her old friend to think she was gone forever.

Sort of an I'm-fine-but-please-don't-come-looking-for-me way to wrap up things, she thought. Not that telling Harley to stay away should actually work, but the former Arkham psychiatrist was no detective. Pamela realized who was, though, and she suddenly felt a chill surge throughout her bones – but no, even the Batman wouldn't be looking for her. If he had, doubtless he would have shown up down south a long time ago and dragged her back north to serve her sentences, unforgiving hard-ass that he was. No, I'll be fine she thought. Get in, get out, and then go back to the Bayou for good, end of story ...


	3. Chapter 3

Alec had naturally been resistant to the idea of Pamela going back to Gotham, but she wasn't going to leave without telling him. It certainly didn't make things easier, though.

"I think you're making a mistake, Pamela," he had warned. "You're still a wanted felon in Gotham, and I don't really understand why you feel the need to go back after all this time."

"I have to, Alec," she had replied. "I never told Harley the truth, and now I feel I finally should."

"Why? Because your little creation died? You know we're just about to test the bio-restorative formula ..."

She glared at him for a second, unused to that tone of voice from him, but she kept her composure.

"Yes, because she, or rather, it died; and yes, I also know about the formula test," she murmured. "I left that Ivy duplicate behind mostly for Harley, and now that it's gone ... well, I just wanted Harley to know I'm OK, even if I can't stay with her anymore."

Holland looked at her quizzically, not believing Pamela was really going to go through with this.

"We're talking about a convicted criminal," he pleaded, as if to say Pamela was undoubtedly going to wind up back behind bars by visiting her old acquaintance. "Does this Harley Quinn mean that much to you, Pamela?"

"Yes, Alec, she really does mean that much to me. I didn't think she did anymore, but she does. You and she are the only people in this whole world whom I care about."

"I'm flattered," he frowned, not really trying to hide his disdain at being linked with a lunatic.

Isley frowned back, then decided to change the subject. The last thing she wanted was to get into an argument before her trip. She reached out to caress his cheek.

"I won't be gone all that long, hon. Trust me on this."

Holland was still mostly unmoved, though his shoulders shrugged.

"I still don't see why you can't just send her a postcard, or an e-mail, or just give her a telephone call," he urged, making his last pitch to get her to stay.

"Because all those things can be traced back here," she told him, "and I don't want to give up this life just because I'm saying good-bye to the old one."

She paused to kiss him on the cheek.

"I thought you already said good-bye to it," he called after her as she turned and made her way to the door, bags in hand.

She paused again, one hand on the doorknob, before turning back to him one last time.

"I thought I did, too, Alec, but things change. I'll see you soon."

She blew him a kiss, turned the knob, and then she was gone.

Alec Holland just stood there, staring, wondering what had gotten into Pamela Isley. She had been the perfect companion, a brilliant botanist in her own right, and someone who had made the Bayou much less lonely than if he had been working by himself. Despite her past misdeeds, she wasn't out to steal his scientific discoveries, and in fact she had complemented him so well that he wondered how he would have gotten so far, so fast in his bio-restorative research without her assistance.

Now he felt she could be throwing away all that they had made together, just to assuage her conscience concerning some psychopath up north. Bad enough Pamela had started losing weight, as if this whole Harley affair was making her ill. She had probably dropped over fifteen pounds the last few months ...

He stared at the door a moment longer, uselessly wishing she would step back through it and call the whole thing off, before shaking his head and turning sadly away.


	4. Chapter 4

The knock on the door came precisely at nine o'clock.

Harley was all a tingle at the sound, her best-laid plans soon to be coming to fruition, and she placed the automatic under the nearest couch cushion. It had been so long since she had seen Ivy – months since her fellow femme fatale had ruined her wedding to the Joker at City Hall after her Puddin' had broken her out of Blackgate in order to make her his bride. Of course, Joker thought Harley had inherited fifty million from a rich old aunt who had just kicked off, and he was all set to make Harley join her dearly departed relative until Ivy came crashing through the window, ruining the civil ceremony and nearly killing the Clown Prince of Crime himself with a crushing creeper vine.

And of course, the Bat family had intervened, saving Joker and ousting Ivy, who had continued to display greater and greater plant-like abilities the last several months. She had survived a seemingly fatal stab wound without a scratch, and later had physically manifested thorns from her skin. She had even begun breathing carbon dioxide while exhaling oxygen, just like a real plant. Batman later revealed that Harley had played the Joker much like he had played her, making up the whole inheritance story just to scam her boyfriend into finally proposing. In the end, the wedding didn't happen, and Harley, furious that Ivy's jealously had ruined what should have been the happiest day of her life, not only formally dissolved the Harley & Ivy pairing, but also vowed to murder Ivy next time she saw her.

A few months time had done nothing to dispel Harley's fury, and now she was just minutes away from executing both Ivy and her revenge. She made it halfway to the door, all homicidal smiles, when memory intervened and Harley remembered all the good times she and Ivy had had together, how far they had come since a chance pairing at the museum years ago had turned them into Gotham's criminal dynamic duo. They had been through so much together ... Now it was all going to end with a single well-placed shot, a splash of blood, and Ivy's lifeless body, and these thoughts made Harley feel cold inside, and warm tears spring up in her eyes.

Screw her, Harley thought angrily. Her affectionate thoughts of companionship were quickly brushed aside by an icy desire for revenge. Ivy was always jealous of me and Joker, she growled, always envious of what we shared. If she really had been my friend, she would have told me about the changes she had been going through, and she woulda let me get hitched to Mistah J - but instead she killed my wedding day, and now I'm gonna finally kill her.

"That you, Red?" she queried, though Harley usually didn't answer the door that way in Gotham – it could get you killed. This was a special occasion, though, and she was sure it had to be Ivy.

"Yes, Harls, it's me," came the nervous voice from the other side of the heavy oaken door, thick enough to stop most small-caliber firearms.

"Coming, bay-bee!" voiced Harley cheerfully, with a slight touch of malevolence. Time to spring the trap, you emerald witch, thought Harley. She closed her hand on the brass doorknob, paused for a second as she beamed her biggest, fakest smile, and then threw open the door to see ...

... not a bewitching, green-skinned siren, as Harley had anticipated, but plain old scientist Pamela Lillian Isley, looking much as she did when she and Harley had first met, with white skin, neat auburn hair, and even silver-rimmed eyeglasses. Ivy blinked behind her lenses as she sighted Harley, the botanist standing there in a tweed jacket, knee-length brown skirt, and low cream-colored heels, before a smile broke out over her face.

"Harley!" she blurted out merrily, and then shot forward to seize her old friend in her arms and squeeze Harley tightly.

Harley Quinn just stood there dumbfounded, even more so then usual.


	5. Chapter 5

After overcoming the initial shock of not seeing the Poison Ivy she had expected, Harley Quinn regained her senses and invited her old friend inside.

"Sit down, Red, sit down!" she bubbled, making sure to seat Ivy on the side of the couch where she had stashed the gun. Harley was dressed in a white halter top, a pair of short red shorts, and ankle-high white socks, her blonde hair set in familiar ponytails with black bands.

"Thanks, Harley," responded Ivy, genuinely pleased to see Harley even if she couldn't fathom how much Harley hated her at this point. Harley had always been good at covering things up, had been a gifted psychiatrist before becoming a costumed criminal, and though Ivy was always wary about people in general, she also felt she could trust Harley. She just didn't know she could be putting her life on the line tonight in testing that trust.

Harley sat down on a small, four-legged wooden stool directly in front of Ivy, about five feet away from the beige-colored couch, just as Ivy removed her glasses and stored them away in her handbag. The only other bag she had brought with her was a small leather duffle, which sat on the floor next to the couch.

"It's been a while," declared Ivy, looking up from her handbag to Harley, before also placing it on the floor.

"A few months," responded Harley, still not sure who she was really talking to.

"Well ... it's actually been a lot longer than that, Harley," added Ivy, not sure what had happened a few months ago, but suspecting that somehow it hadn't been very pleasant. She was no psychiatrist, but Ivy now felt as though Harley was acting a little strange even for her, as if perhaps she might be covering something up. She was further taken aback at the new look on Harley's face, a mask of pure bewilderment.

"How – how much longer, Red?" answered Harley, and though she tried to hide them, Ivy could see Harley clenching her fists by her sides, fingers turning red, as if she was trying to stave off some growing anger within.

"It's a long story, Harls," responded Ivy. "I hope you'll bear with me."

So many thoughts began pin-balling around inside Harley Quinn's head that suddenly she didn't care what the explanation was. Ivy had always professed to be her friend, but she was always yelling at Harley when they teamed up, always berating the blonde and treating her like an idiotic child. Harley had never really stood up to Ivy in response to her friend's bullying, afraid that if she did they wouldn't be friends any more and that Harley would be all alone except for Mistah J - which would have been fine except he wasn't always exactly the loving type. People always told Harley that her infatuation with the Joker was bad for her; but in her own way, Ivy had been just as abusive to her as he had, and now Dr. Quinzel wanted some payback.

She's just gonna feed me a load of B.S. and twist everything around so that it seems like everything's my fault – again – thought Harley to herself. Her lips began to tighten across her face, her lower one sticking out as she narrowed her eyes and stared intently at Ivy. I don't know what happened to her or why she looks different, but I really don't care, her mind continued. She's trying to fool me, and sorry, Red, I ain't fooled. Green skin or not, Ivy, you're gonna get yours tonight, baby.

The time for pretense was almost past, but then Harley suddenly smiled, remembering that she had a little gift for Ivy before the real fun started.

"Hold on a second, Red, I'll be right back!" interrupted Harley, pointing at Ivy with one long index finger and grinning before bouncing off the stool like a rubber ball and into the small kitchen area behind the living room couch.

"Is something wrong, Harley?" asked Ivy nervously, wondering just what was going on now. She couldn't read Harley at all, and she was getting more than a little nervous.

"Nah, everything's good," said Harley with a downward wave of her hand. "I just got a little present for ya!"

The admission took Ivy back a little. Harley had always been very sweet to her, had always been giving her little gifts since way back when, so maybe Harley was just having a bad day and didn't mean to look so mad. Ivy felt a little more relieved, if still somewhat tense. Maybe it's just because it's been so long, she thought, but I guess that's to be expected. Just deal with it, Isley.

"Oh," Ivy finally managed to get out. "Thank you, Harley!" She tried to sound sweet herself. "Can I ask what it is?"

"Oh, nothing fancy, just a little something," came Harley's sing-song voice from behind her. "But I know how much you like them, Red."

Ivy turned but only to see Harley bounding back, the blonde rounding the far edge of the couch, but keeping the gift out of sight and behind her back as she approached with her arms behind her. She stopped a few feet in front of her old friend.

"Hold out your hands," she admonished, and Ivy did as requested.

"Here ya go!" squeaked Harley, as she held out a small potted plant and jammed it into Ivy's hands. "Ta-da!"

The stems were brown, curled, and dry. No leaves, shoots or buds could be seen. It hadn't been alive for weeks.

"What ..." stammered Ivy, thinking that if this was meant to be a joke, it wasn't one of Harley's better ones. Harley knew how Ivy treasured plants.

"It's dead, Red," mouthed Harley matter-of-factly, no emotion in her voice or her expression. "Just like you're gonna be."

Ivy looked aghast, looking from Harley to the plant and back again, and she shuddered as Harley reached behind the nearest couch cushion and pulled out her toy, a red-and-black .45 automatic given to her long ago by Mistah J himself. In a way it seemed right, Harley surmised, the Joker giving her a gun that she herself would use to waste Ivy. It was almost like both of them would be blowing her away for wrecking their wedding bliss.

"Any last words, Red?" chided Harley, as she placed the gun barrel up by her own head, searching Ivy's anguished, pale face for the perfect place to put a slug through it.

"Harley ... Harley, what's going on?" was all Ivy could get out as the plant tumbled to the floor, spilling blackened soil on the worn carpet. Her mouth was dry with sudden horror, and she couldn't find her voice as she fixated on the weapon in Harley's right hand. Harley had never acted like this before – Ivy knew she hadn't always been the nicest person in the world to Harley, but she never thought Harley wanted to kill her for it. She also knew Harley Quinn never brandished an empty firearm.

"Don't treat me like an idiot!" spat Harley, her face now in Ivy's. "You always treat me like an idiot, Ivy, and I'm sick of it! You know what you did to me!"

Ivy raised her hands submissively, never imagining her trip home could have possibly turned into her own funeral.

"Harley, honest to god, I don't know what ..."

Her response was cut short as Harley backhanded Ivy across the cheek with her free hand.

"Liar!" screamed the former Dr. Quinzel. "You know damn well you screwed up my big day, and now you're gonna pay for it with your miserable, misanthropic little life!"

That was a lot of big words strung together for Harley, thought Ivy, who rubbed her reddening cheek gingerly where Harley had struck her. Thankfully she had removed her eyeglasses, which were more for disguise than anything, or Harley might have hurt her even worse.

"Harley, I swear to god, I don't know what I did to you, but please don't do this!" Ivy suddenly felt wet and cold, fear draining off of her in rivers of perspiration.

And Harley Quinn laughed. A deep, mocking, sinister kind of laugh, not the jolly timbre that Ivy had been accustomed to in all their years as partners.

"Like I said, Red, I ain't stupid!" she shot back, quickly lowering the gun and pointing it at Ivy's mouth, Harley lowering one eye as if focusing her aim. "But let me just ask ya this, Pammie," she asked coyly, just to draw out the tension and make Ivy sweat just a tad more before finally firing.

"If the great Poison Ivy didn't screw up my wedding to my Puddin', then who the hell did?!" She practically yelled the last five words, her anger volcanic by this point.

Wedding? Ivy thought to herself. Harley almost got married to that gargoyle? I didn't call it off – well, I might have if I were here, but - and then she remembered her duplicate and realized that it was the clone who had to be responsible.

"Not the real Poison Ivy," she said suddenly, responding faster than Harley expected.

The admission hit Harley like a brick, and her whole body, which had been stiff with fury, suddenly relaxed, including her gun hand.

"What? What the hell ...?"

And then all hell really broke loose as Ivy grabbed the gun with both hands and tried to wrestle it from Harley's grasp ....


	6. Chapter 6

The two former friends fought fiercely, Ivy desperate to preserve her own life and Harley eager to end it, with the gun as the prize. They twisted and turned as they fell back on the couch with Harley on top, and rolled and wrestled for the weapon. Ivy finally managed to wrench it free from Harley's hand and send it flying, only to take a punch right on the chin that sent her sprawling back on the couch.

Ivy looked up, dazed by the blow. She could just manage to make out Harley's face, and she shrunk back from the sight. Harley's normally pretty, bubbly countenance had warped into a mask of pure anger and sheer hatred, and Ivy could see no trace of the young woman she had befriended so long ago. It was as if Ivy hadn't been the only one who hadn't been real the last few years of their relationship, and she wondered for an instant if somehow something out of hell itself had replaced the real Harley Quinn.

Her hesitancy cost her as Harley fastened her hands about Ivy's neck and began squeezing, and the room began to spin about the redhead. She seized Harley's wrists and tried to pry those hands off of her throat, but Harley was just too strong and too determined, her eyes blazing and her teeth clenched together so hard they looked as though they would crack apart. Ivy gasped as Harley's thumbs bit into her windpipe, and she wondered why she had come all this way to Gotham just for this, as Harley started to bang the back of Ivy's head up and down on the couch.

"Harley, please," Ivy managed to blurt out before she began coughing and gagging in her opponent's grasp. "I ... I can't breathe ..."

"That's cause I'm choking ya, Pammie!" snarled Harley, face still red with rage.

Ivy gagged again as Harley bore down harder with her bare hands, strangling her former friend, until suddenly Harley found herself crying out in agony. Ivy had reached up desperately with her left hand and grabbed a hold of Harley's pigtail on the right side of her head before pulling it like mad, trying to pull Harley off of her.

"Owww!" cried Harley, feeling as though the whole tail was going to rip off in Ivy's hand. "Ow! Ow! Leggo, you witch!"

Preoccupied with her own pain, Harley softened her stranglehold just long enough for Ivy to pull Harley down by said ponytail and set her up for a right cross, Ivy's knuckles crashing hard off Harley's left cheek. The blow staggered the blonde, just long enough for Ivy to grab hold of Harley's hands and wrench them free from her neck before the redhead placed a foot in Harley's gut and thrust her away across the living room.

Ivy turned to tried to run for the door, but she slipped in her panic and Harley recovered quickly enough to tackle her from behind, sending the stool and some other furniture tumbling about. The two women hit the carpet hard, and Ivy felt herself being rolled onto her back as Harley's hands grabbed at her body and face. Ivy felt more like she was fighting a wild animal, and tried to cover up her face, but Harley was clawing wildly now, and Ivy could feel Harley's nails slashing into her skin and cutting up her face. Ivy fought back as well, raking away with her own nails and opening up cuts and slashes on Harley's skin. It had been some time since Ivy had battled physically, but she knew her life was on the line here, and if Harley wasn't holding back, then she couldn't afford to, either.

The two wildcats ripped and tore at one at one another, shredding clothing and skin in the process, pulling and twisting hair, landing punches and slaps left and right as neither woman dared to give in, though both felt themselves tiring with exertion. Ivy reached out around her, fumbling for a weapon, and came upon the potted plant. She grabbed it, swung her arm upwards, and shattered the pot against Harley's head, the blow stunning the blonde long enough for Ivy to force her foe off of her and regain her own feet.

Dancing behind the couch, Ivy quickly stripped off her heels for better balance, just as Harley shakily made it back to own feet. Her face still looked angry, softened somewhat by her pain, though she rubbed her head as she glared at Ivy, mentally adding one more score to her blacklist against her old buddy.

"Let's talk about this, Harley," asked Ivy, extending one hand as if to ward off her old accomplice and also calm her down. "I can explain everything, if you just give me a chance."

Harley stumbled towards Ivy, catching herself on the couch just as she looked down to see a faint trace of blood staining her palm where she had massaged her scalp. She looked back at Ivy hatefully.

"I don't care what you want to say, Pammie," she spat. "You ruined my wedding, and there's no way you can make up for that! You may not be green anymore, but it was still you, Red!"

"Harley," started Ivy, and she paused to think of what she would say next. "Harley, you have to believe me when I say that wasn't me!"

"Like hell it wasn't, you liar!" She then produced the gun, which she had retrieved from the floor, and pointed it at Ivy again. She managed to pull back the hammer, despite her pain and dizziness, and did her best to keep her aim straight although she still shook a little. Ivy was almost ten feet away, but even she couldn't dodge a bullet, and she also knew Harley was a pretty good shot. She also knew her next words could be her last if she didn't break through and reach her friend-turned-foe.

"I want the truth, Pammie - now!" snapped Harley. "How I can believe that it wasn't you?"

Ivy held up her hands, knowing she would either live or die in the following few moments.

"Because Harley - and this is the truth - until today I hadn't seen in you in almost two years. The Poison Ivy who wrecked your wedding was an independent plant creation that I made myself, to take my place, to bother Batman, and to especially watch over you in my absence, all without any control from me. That's the truth, Harley, the honest-to-god truth."

She's lying, Harley thought to herself. She's just trying to save her own skin. I should just blow her away and be done with this, Harley felt, and she took aim again; but now that the moment was finally here, it wasn't as easy as she thought. Tears now blurred her vision as Ivy's words sank in and Harley recalled all the fun she and Ivy had shared, how they had become a celebrity crime couple in defying the Batman time and again, and especially how they had always been there for each other in the tough times, of which there were a lot. She started to shake, and as Ivy's form distorted in front of her, Harley's intellect warred with her emotions, and she knew in her heart she couldn't go through with this.

"I came back because I felt guilty, Harley, and I wanted you to know that nothing was more important to me than telling you the truth," admitted Ivy. "Please, Harls, you really have been my best friend, like the sister I never had. Please don't let it end like this. Please just trust me.

"Please."

That last word did it, Harley thought - and here I'm supposed to be the one with all the fancy psychology degrees. Harley looked at Ivy, eyes bulging and jaw clenched, trigger finger still a little shaky. Her mind was cloudy, her chest pounding and her face slick with tears. She swayed a little bit, trying to maintain both her balance and her consciousness, and then Harley Quinn fell down back against the couch, stunned in more ways than one.


	7. Chapter 7

They rested against the sides of the couch together, touching at the shoulders. Both women looked as though they had been through the proverbial wringer. Their hair was matted and tousled, crimson cuts and bruises flowered on their smooth white skin, and their clothing was ripped and shredded where they had put their hands on each other, fighting for their lives just a short while ago.

Ivy had reiterated to Harley that she really had been away for years now, and that Harley's wedding had been spoiled by an Ivy impostor of Pamela Isley's own creation. Now there was only abject silence. Both women stared straight ahead, the soft sounds of their breathing the only sounds in the small apartment, which now looked a little like Arkham or Blackgate after yet another prison break attempt.

"So when did you pull the switch, Red?" Harley turned her head slightly to the left to look at Ivy, who was still looking at the far wall of the apartment.

Ivy looked back at Harley and paused before replying, as if she had been storing up an answer for a long time and was still hesitant about finally releasing it.

"It was after the last time I escaped from Arkham by myself, Harley, when I went down to the Amazon."

She related the tale of how she had gone down there to get away from Gotham for good, as Ivy felt it was finally time to give up her criminal ways. She felt it had gotten her nowhere in her life, hadn't really done anything in her drive to save nature from humanity, and she was tired of constantly matching wits with the Batman and coming up short.

He's never going to leave me alone, she thought, that self-righteous S.O.B. He spoils everything I do, every plan I make, every action I take. Well, she surmised, if Batman won't stop bothering me, then I'm just going to stop playing his game, and that long-eared do-gooder can find someone else to play with. Enough was enough, she thought, and she decided to cast off her criminal career and get back to her scientific roots. She decided it was time to stop being Poison Ivy, plant-based femme fatale, and go back to being Dr. Pamela Isley, professional botanist and upstanding member of the (ugh) human race.

It took a while for all the toxins and serums that had built up in her body over the last several years to expel themselves from her systems, but with time and some of her own genetic manipulation, she gradually began to shed her green-skinned, nymph-like look, and went back to how she had looked when she had first turned to a life outside the law. It helped that she had met Dr. Alec Holland while down in the Amazon. At first she had been angry that any human had dared to trespass on her land, but after talking with him at length, she realized that he wasn't like other people. If anything, he was like her, someone dedicated to saving flora from fauna, and especially from mankind.

In time, he in turn grew to look past her lawless past and see her for the fellow brilliant scientist that she was - and something more. After several months in the Amazon, he finally asked her to accompany him back to the States, to help him perfect his bio-restorative formula that would change the face of the world, and to her surprise she accepted his invitation to join him in Louisiana, just the two of them.

At first she thought the move would simply be a great cover for her identity, especially if Batman ever came looking for her in the Amazon; but then she realized it was really because she wanted to be with Holland. She couldn't remember when she had last been so happy, not even that time when she had fashioned her own human family out of mutated plants, only to see the Batman spoil that happiness, too. Life with Alec Holland was better than Pamela Isley ever thought life could be, and it was making up for the all past indignities of her existence.

She hadn't told him about her duplicate, though. There had been no need - she had crafted the clone from her own genetic material before she had met Holland, just before she left Gotham the last time for South America. She had birthed it as an adult, so that it could take care of itself from the get-go, and as such it also possessed all her memories and impulses, harbored all her dreams and desires. She also planted a subliminal message in its mind that allowed her doppelganger to believe it was the one-and-only Pamela Isley a.k.a. Poison Ivy. She left it to wake and take her place in Gotham City a few months after she had left for the Amazon, to baffle the Bat and his underlings, and also to keep Harley company.

She had made vegetable creatures before, but this latest duplicate was her best, designed to live for a few years instead of a few days. It would become more plant-like as it passed through its life cycle, and would eventually die and dissolve; but perhaps by then, Batman would have forgotten all about her, and Harley would have found someone else to play around with besides Ivy. If the clone came to its messy end in front of someone else, then it was likely that people would also believe that Pamela Isley was truly gone for good, never suspecting she was alive and well and living a decent, innocent life in Louisiana. She hoped it wouldn't happen in front of Harley, but she had no way to ensure that, and she hoped time would heal Harley's heart regardless.

This clone's creation had actually made Isley sad, as knew it meant she was saying good-bye to Harley for good. Alec Holland, though, had helped her to fill that void in her heart for Harley's company. Ivy also felt she had said her good-byes to Harley when she last escaped Arkham, and in retrospect, she felt that was the best way to end it. No one needed to know that this "new" Poison Ivy wasn't the genuine article, and it would be best that way, for Harley's sake. No amount of interrogation by the Batman or Commissioner Gordon - or torture by any of Gotham's rogues - could force Harley to reveal a secret she wasn't privy to. Isley was dismayed she wouldn't get to spend time with Harley anymore, even with all of Harley's quirks and screw-ups; but now she had Holland in her life, and she was sure her duplicate would watch out for Harley until its dying day, whenever that came.

If only Ivy had known how well the clone would have done its job before unexpectedly returning to its creator like a spawning salmon, and breathing its last in Holland's arms before returning to the green, she might have scrapped the whole plan. It sounded so far like her replacement had caused more trouble than the whole scheme had been worth. Her plans had a tendency to go sour like that, she mused.

Harley & Ivy still sat back against the couch, bleeding and sweated and breathing heavily, both women just staring straight ahead, not yet daring to look at one another on a continual basis. It was Harley who finally broke the silence after several long, anxious moments, following Ivy's confession.

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth, Red?" she murmured, and then turned slightly to her left to look at Ivy. Her blond hair was matted and tousled, one ponytail remaining where two had been, her face cut in several places and blood tricking out of one corner of her mouth.

Ivy looked ahead, then up at the ceiling, as if trying to measure what she was going to say.

"I was afraid, Harley."

"Afraid of what? Me?" Harley looked incredulous, and a little hurt. Ivy laughed softly, not to deride Harley, just because now this all seemed somewhat funny to her. A small part of her could understand why Harley acted so nuts almost all the time - lunacy could be fun, in small doses.

"If I knew you were going to try to kill me, Harls, well, yeah."

Harley smiled a little. A small, weak one, but a smile nonetheless.

"I wasn't going to kill ya, Red," she said sadly, looking ahead at the far wall. "Like you said, we've been through so much together that in the end I just couldn't do it. I thought I would - I mean, I was so mad for so long after the wedding - and then it turns out, that it really wasn't you at all, breaking it all up."

"In a way it was, Harley," admitted Ivy softly, also gazing straight ahead. "I mean, that clone was developed as an adult, and as such, she had all my memories, all my desires, all my feelings. She wasn't exactly me, but she was close enough."

Harley still looked ahead, but then the corners of her mouth turned down, and she looked over at Ivy. "So is that how you really feel about me, Ives? Me and Mistah J?"

Ivy looked quizzically over at Harley, a small patch of blood drying at the corner of her mouth, sticky and alkaline.

"You mean, would I try to stop you from getting married to the Clown Prince of Psychotics?"

Harley didn't like Ivy's pet name for her one true love, but she ignored it and soldiered on.

"Yeah, if I was going to hitched to Mistah J, well, would you come crashing in on a vine or a tree or something to stop the whole shebang, and then try to off my Puddin' to boot?"

Ivy smiled her own weak smile.

"No, I don't think I'd go that far, Harls. If anything, I would hope I'd be your maid of honor."

Harley looked stupefied, mouth so agape her lower jaw looked like it would literally crash to the floor.

"R-Really, Red? You'd want to be up there with me on my big day?"

"Well," backtracked Ivy quickly, wondering if she had gotten too maudlin. "It's no secret that I have no great love for the Joker, and I'm sure he feels the same way about me, plant clone or otherwise. The one thing, the only thing we have in common, really, is you - and there's just no way that I could hurt him without hurting you."

Ivy thought for a second, then forged on.

"I am afraid for you, Harley, for what he might do to you just by being with him; but I also know you're an adult, and that's a decision that you have to make yourself, not me or anyone else.

She paused again, measuring what she would say next. She was just so tired that the words she had harbored so long didn't come easily.

"I'll admit there were times I've thought of just wrapping that ghoul up in a creeper and squeezing him 'till he pops like a zit; but if I ever did that, then you really would hate me, and getting rid of him is not worth losing you."

Her face turned sad before she finished.

"If I haven't lost you already, that is."

Harley looked a little sad herself.

"I wouldn't say you've lost me, Ives," she remarked, "but ya gotta admit, this is all a lot ta take. I mean, first my wedding goes plotz, then you disappear, then you come back looking like yer old self, only to tell me that I haven't been palling around with my best friend the last couple of years or so, just a vegetable copy of you that got weirder and weirder and finally up and croaked."

Ivy wondered if she believed it all herself now, hearing it like that from Harley. The former Dr. Quinzel had a habit of simplifying things, almost like a little girl, but in the end her simplification almost always made sense.

"It is a lot to take, I'll admit, Harley," sighed Ivy. "I know my intentions were good, in not telling you the real story to protect you from Batman and everybody else; but I did lie to you, and for that, I am truly sorry."

She looked deeply into Harley's eyes, hoping to express her true sympathy, and also hoping to find some sign of forgiveness, even if Ivy didn't feel she truly deserved it.

Harley looked straight back into Ivy's eyes.

"It's OK, Red, she sighed. "Just so's you know, I'm not the real Harley Quinn, either."

Ivy's jaw dropped. Harley looked absolutely serious, then stuck out her tongue.

"Gotcha," she snickered. Ivy gasped, then frowned and smacked Harley on the shoulder, eliciting a laugh and an "ouch" from her blonde-headed buddy.

"Sorry Red, I couldn't resist," admitted a giggly Harley at teasing her old friend. She then returned her focus to the matter at hand, and sighed once more before continuing.


	8. Chapter 8

"I know you're sorry, Red, I really do believe that," Harley stated sadly. "It's just going to take me a while to accept it. I was just so mad at you - or who - or what - I thought was you - but you weren't you, and you were really ... Geez, I'm gettin' an attention headache ..."

"I think you mean tension headache, Harls," corrected Ivy, but not in a mean fashion.

"Whatever," replied Harley. "Tell me, though, Red, was it awful when you – I mean, she – I mean it – died? I had some suspicions that it wasn't you, when you – her - it – survived a stabbin' in Arkham and other things, but I thought you were just going through, I dunno, changes ..."

"I wasn't in the room at the time, Harley," admitted Ivy, who wondered just how just how much trouble her evolving duplicate had gotten itself into. "I came in after the clone had expired, but I don't think it was pleasant for her - I mean, it. Alec and I buried what was left of it, and after thinking about it a long while, I decided I just had to finally tell you the truth, face-to-face."

They sat in silence again for a few moments, both looking down at the floor, before Ivy spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Harls," she expressed sadly, voice shaking slightly. "I should never have come back here."

Harley glanced over at Ivy, a glint of tears welling up in her eyes.

"No," she said softly, but directly. "No, I'm glad you came back here, Red - it was decent of ya to tell me the truth."

Ivy smiled again, but deep down inside she was angry at herself for having lied at all.

"Thanks, Harley, but I should have told you before. I should have trusted you, and it was such a selfish, selfish thing to do, to run away and leave you like that."

Now Harley chuckled.

"We're career costumed criminals, Ives - well, one of us still is. Ain't we supposed to be selfish?"

They laughed in unison, a sound both of them hadn't heard in a long, long while, a sound they found they both missed.

"I guess," chuckled Ivy.

Harley smiled, then spoke out.

"This Alec guy, Red," she started. "He sounds really nice."

"He is, Harley," Ivy smiled. "He's been there for me almost all this time, filling the void in my life, like you have."

Harley smiled again, and inside she was grateful that Ivy thought so much of her.

"It sounds like you really care for him, Red."

"I do, Harls. I really do - and you, too."

Ivy looked down again as Harley continued smiling, then back up, more confident in the request she was about to make.

"I know I've no right to ask Harls," Ivy started, "but do you think I could crash here, just for tonight? I promise I'll be out of here and on my way back tomorrow."

Harley frowned at Ivy.

"What kinda question is that, Red?" she mocked, sounding more like the zany old Harley. "Of course ya can crash at my pad, as long as ya want! I'm not throwin' ya out in this crazy city, especially not at night! Hell, we might as well just turn on the Bat-Signal!"

Ivy smiled, remembering how Harley had said something similar the first time they had met. She reached over and gripped Harley's left hand in her own right.

"Thank you, Harley," she responded with genuine affection and gratitude. "Just ... thank you."

Harley squeezed Ivy's hand in return, and then they reached over and hugged one another for what seemed like the first time in ages, holding each other until more than a minute had passed, just glad to be together again.

"No prob, Red," grinned the Joker's moll as they released one another. "No problemo at all. Now, how's about we stop all this sad sack talk, clean ourselves up, and watch a little TV?"

She released herself from Ivy's hand after one final squeeze, and then shifted her weight forward, balancing herself upon her hands before lifting herself up to her feet. Harley then picked up the remote control from the couch, clicked the set on, and handed the remote to Ivy, who still sat there on the floor, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Here ya go, Red," said Harley jovially. "Watch whatever ya want to watch, I'm just go gonna get ya a washcloth so ya can clean yourself up a bit."

"Thanks, Harley," smiled Ivy wearily. "Thanks - for everything."

Harley grinned again, and then bounded off towards the bathroom. Ivy soon heard the faucet flowing as she started to click through the local news channels.

" ... Gotham Knights falling tonight to the Metropolis Meteors in ..."

Ivy didn't really care for sports. Next channel.

" ... looking like a wet one tomorrow, rain on and off, with highs in the ... "

She was used to wet weather, being a Seattle native. Moving on ...

" ... disaster averted earlier this evening when the Batman managed to ..."

She didn't really want to hear about any of his heroics. She yawned, covering her mouth as she did so, and clicked the remote again.

" ... story coming out of Louisiana tonight where a lab facility in the Bayou was seemingly destroyed by an explosion ..."

What? Ivy snapped back to attention. What was that about a lab down in the Bayou? Oh god, she thought, the cold, liquid sensation of genuine fear coursing through her innards. Oh god, please don't let it be Alec ...

" ... no bodies found in all the fire damage, but police have strong suspicions that Dr. Alec Holland, a world-renowned botanist and biochemist, may have been a victim of the blast ..."

It was like watching a made-for-TV movie where the story ended tragically. Only Ivy knew that this was no fictional tale, it was her life, and it was turning for the worst - again.

"No!" screamed Ivy. "Oh god, no!"

Harley came rushing out of the bathroom, fear plainly on her face at hearing Ivy's plea.

"What's wrong, Red?"

Ivy stared ahead at the screen, trying to raise the sound, but her fingers wouldn't work, couldn't get the remote to increase the volume. Harley nimbly catapulted herself over the couch and hit the volume control on the set, bringing the sound up ten levels higher, before she settled on her haunches back by Ivy, who was still staring numbly at the television and the awful images it was projecting.

The lab where Ivy had spent time with Holland was now a cauldron of black cinder, with smoke wafting away on the Bayou breeze. If a building had really been there before, it was almost impossible to discern now, except for skeletal lines of ash where the frame had burned and settled. In the upper right corner of the screen was a mug shot of Holland, with the bold yellow text "PRESUMED DEAD" glaring below his photo, but there was no sign of him in the actual scene.

There was a long, ugly scorch of black ash stretched along the remnants of the small wooden dock at the edge of where the lab had been. It was as if something – or someone – had been aflame and tried to dash down the deck to extinguish the inferno in the cooling swamp. A police air boat was dredging the murky waters, seeking a body, or what was left of one. A forensics officer walked by, holding something up with a long wooden pole. It seemed to be nothing recognizable, but on closer inspection, it was the remains of a charred lab coat, looking for all the world as if it had been feasted upon by a swarm of angry, fiery moths.

" ... no other remains of Holland have yet been found, and police are not ruling out the possibility of arson or some kind of terrorist attack ..."

"Oh my god," mouthed Harley, her attention fixated on the screen. She suddenly looked over to Ivy, who dropped the remote just as Harley turned her head. Her hand was still stretched out towards the television, as if Ivy was trying to touch the lab all the way from Gotham, hoping to feel that what she was seeing was not actually real.

"Pammie?" queried Harley, wondering if Ivy was going into shock. "Pammie, are you ..."

The scream made Harley jump.

"Nooooooooo!!!"

Ivy went hysterical, and was now crawling on her hands and knees towards the set, trying to transmit herself through the TV and back to the Bayou.

"Alec!!! Nooooooooo!!!"

Harley jumped forward and caught Ivy a few feet from the screen. They looked like two wrestlers at the start of a high school bout, with Ivy in the bottom position and Harley on top, trying to pin her.

"Pammie, no, you can't - "

Ivy tried to throw Harley off, but the former Arkham psychiatrist held her fellow former Arkham inmate fast.

"Let me go!" shrieked Ivy, trying to wrest herself away. "He needs me, Harley! I've got to - to ..." and then Pamela Isley stopped fighting and began sobbing.

Harley Quinn was torn up inside, but good psychiatrist that she was - and she had been good, before getting mixed up with the Joker - she knew that lying to Ivy wasn't going to help. She had to make Ivy face the truth, or at least what damned well seemed like the truth. Maybe Holland hadn't been there when the place had burnt down; but if he had, there was no way in hell that anyone human would have survived that kind of conflagration.

"Pammie," started Harley, "I'm - I'm so sorry, Pammie. There's nothing you can do now. I'm sorry."

As if receiving an electrical jolt, Ivy started bucking again against Harley's grip, and Harley found herself almost having to sit on top of Ivy to stop her.

"No!" she snarled. "No! They didn't find a body, Harley - he could be out there hurt, needing help - oh god, they probably wanted the formula - they went after him - and I ..."

Ivy's resultant wail made Harley's blood run cold and her hair stand up. She had never seen her friend act this way - had never seen Ivy so shattered - and she hoped like hell to never see it again.

"Pammie!" she snapped, trying to break Ivy out of this horrible spell. "It's over! There's nothing you can do!"

Ivy turned on Harley and tried to wrestle herself away, but Harley grabbed Ivy by the shoulders and kept a hold of her.

"No, no, I can save him," Ivy sobbed, hot tears spilling from her eyes and raging down her cheeks. "Those animals - they killed him – damn them – got to get back – got to..."

The next sound was the rifle-like crack of Harley's open palm across Ivy's cheek, as Harley opted for the physical psychiatric approach.

"Pammie!" she shouted, her shrill, high-pitched voice reverberating throughout the living room, her tone deadly serious. "It's over! He's dead, Pammie, he's dead, and if you'd have been there, you'd be dead too, now!"

She squeezed Ivy's shoulders until Ivy was almost totally immobilized. Ivy still struggled slightly, but Harley could tell that the long trip and her newfound grief, plus their earlier struggle, had just about worn Pamela Isley out for now.

"Harley, no, he's - I can - oh god, no ..."

Ivy latched her hands onto Harley's forearms, buried her head just above Harley's chest, and sobbed uncontrollably - harsh, racking sobs that shook throughout her entire body and brought tears from Harley's own eyes.

"I'm sorry, Pammie," Harley sighed, dry voice cracking with sorrow as she stroked Ivy's hair with one hand and held her with the other arm. "I am so, so sorry ..."

Ivy continued to shake like one of her beloved leaves, her breath coming in ragged gasps and coughs as she tried to cope with this new horror, and couldn't fathom how to even begin to.

"He's gone ..." she cried, a statement followed by more sobs, each worse than the one before. "Oh god, Harley, he's gone, and I couldn't save him ... and I'm all alone now, I'm all alone ..." and then her speech disintegrated into mournful, almost howling cries.

Harley held Ivy tightly with both arms, warm silver streams spilling down her own cheeks and leaking onto Ivy's auburn tresses. The clown princess of crime then buried her face in the botanist's hair, kissing the top of Ivy's head as she wrapped her arms tighter about Ivy and squeezed her as hard as she could.

"No," Harley choked out, trying to sound strong for her friend. "You're not alone, Red. You'll never be alone. You've got me, Red, you've always got me ..."

The two young women finally collapsed upon one another in a tightly-knit ball of mutual grief, sobbing and crying and commiserating, as faceless television anchors droned on in the background.


	9. Chapter 9

Ivy barely moved the next day, despite all of Harley's best efforts to comfort her friend. It was as if Ivy wanted to stop living, and it frightened Harley. Ivy was dressed in a simple green nightshirt and white socks, while Harley was in full costume, albeit without makeup and mask and with her tasseled hood slung back down around her neck. Harley had hoped that Ivy seeing her dressed this way would bring back happier memories, but so far no success.

"Please, Red, you've gotta get up, you gotta eat something."

Ivy sat there as if she hadn't heard a single word, but Harley didn't give up easily.

"Please, Pammie, I hate seeing ya like this. Please let me know what I can do - anything, just name it!"

She knelt down next to Ivy, who sat there in front of the couch where she had spent the night, with Harley having rested below her in a sleeping bag. Reaching out hesitantly, Harley brushed her gloved fingertips underneath Ivy's chin and turned her friend's face towards her.

It was a face Harley had never seen before, a Pamela Isley she had never encountered. Her eyes were red, her skin pale and her lips dry, but it was the face as a whole that did Harley in. It wasn't that Ivy looked exhausted, which she was after getting only a few hours sleep. It was that she just looked so beaten.

And Poison Ivy had never looked beaten, not in all the time Harley Quinn had known her. Ivy was the strongest, most self-assured, most independent woman Harley had ever met, but after last night's telecast, Harley could find no trace of that strength or assurance or independence. She wondered if Ivy would try to starve herself to death, and she shuddered at the thought.

"There's nothing you can do, Harley," sighed Ivy wearily, as if it was taking everything out of her just to speak. "There's nothing anyone can do now."

Her face contorted with grief, and her tears began to fall again.

Harley was out of tears herself, though seeing Ivy crying made Harley feel as if someone had stabbed her through the heart. I've got to help her, Harley thought, but how?

"Maybe - maybe I just goofed, Pammie," she iterated. "You know me and my big mouth. Maybe Alec wasn't there. Maybe it was all just an accident."

Ivy looked back at Harley, still sniffling, still shedding tears, wiping her face with tissues from a box Harley had thoughtfully laid out the night before.

"No, Harley, he was there. He had to have been. Alec was a very careful man, and he wouldn't have had such an accident. I've tried calling his cell phone, over and over, but he hasn't ... hasn't called me back ..."

She began to sob quietly, wishing she had been in the Bayou when everything happened, just so it would have all been over and she wouldn't have had to suffer so much. How could she go on after this?

Harley extended her arms and held Ivy close for a few minutes, rocking her friend back and forth like a tiring infant, until Ivy finally calmed down and Harley gently let her go. Harley then shuffled wearily to her feet, not having gotten much sleep or food herself, so distressed was she about Ivy. An idea then hit her, as if a cartoon light bulb had ignited above her blonde head. Not a fun kind of idea, though, more like a recognition of the brutality that mankind was capable of.

"If it wasn't an accident, Pammie, then it means somebody did something, something bad," began Harley. "From what you said, Red, a lot of people would have liked to have gotten their hands on that formula."

Ivy had told Harley last night that certain people had kept calling the lab the last few weeks, wanting to know more about Holland's bio-restorative solution. He had always hung up on them, usually angrily, but told Ivy there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Harley stopped, staring down at her alternating black and red elf shoes, and then looked over at Ivy once more.

"I'm really sorry for your loss, baby. I wish I could make it all right, but I can't. You can't change what happened, Pammie, we know that, but I'll tell ya this."

She looked up and searched for the words, hoping this would all come out the way she intended.

"I know you don't care for Mistah J, Ivy, but if he turned up dead and I thought somebody did my Puddin' in, then nothing - nothing - would stop me from going after the one who was responsible and putting them down like a mad dog. Not the Bat, not Gordon, not Two-Face, not nobody. They'd never have a moment's peace the rest of their life. I'd hunt 'em down and I'd make 'em dead."

She knelt down by Ivy again, and lifted Ivy's face up by her chin.

"You couldn't save Alec, Pammie," declared Harley. "He's gone and you couldn't save him – but you're alive, baby. You're alive, and you can avenge him."

She knelt there a few moments more, and then collapsed back on the couch. Ivy had always watched out for her, thought Harley, and now that the roles were reversed, she found that being the one in charge was positively exhausting, just before she drifted off to sleep.

To Be Concluded ...


	10. Chapter 10 End

Harley awoke the next day at around noon to discover that Ivy was no longer sitting by the couch. She sat up in a panic, and began calling throughout the apartment.

"Red?! Where are ya, Red?!"

Harley searched the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, but no Ivy. The few windows were all locked and closed, as was the door, so where could she have gone? Then Harley remembered the basement, which actually led to a small greenhouse that she and Ivy had used years ago when hiding out here. Harley sprinted to the stairs and rushed down them, her mind swirling with dark, unpleasant thoughts.

I hope she's OK, thought Harley as she flew down the stairs, please be OK, Red. Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, what if she went into the greenhouse to hang herself or something? What if just gave up and decided to end it all?! She swallowed hard, afraid that what she was going to find would literally break her heart.

Please don't give up, Red, I'm coming!

Fear still gripped Harley's heart as she raced through the small, dark, musty cellar, through the greenhouse entranceway, and out into a long-neglected, glass-enclosed world that she knew would be more dead and brown than green and living.

Or so she thought.

The entire greenhouse was - green. There were plants everywhere. Small trees rose up to the circular greenhouse roof, conifers and deciduous varieties alike, hailing from both America and foreign shores. A sea of flowers bloomed throughout the conservatory, roses and willows and tulips and sunflowers, reds and whites and purples and yellows, with golden sunbeams spilling in everywhere through the overhead glass panes and down upon the nascent arboretum. The various fragrances all blended together into a truly intoxicating scent, a veritable feast for the olfactory senses as well as their visual counterparts. Water dripped and settled all around, misting leaves and fronds before finally collecting in puddles strewn about the rich soil floor.

It was so overwhelmingly beautiful that Harley momentarily forgot whey she had run out there in the first place.

"Red!" she called out at the top of her lungs, dreading that she would receive no response. "Red, are ya in here?!"

The silence was oppressive, even crushing.

"I'm here, Harley."

The voice was sensuous and seductive, one that Harley Quinn hadn't heard in a long while.

Poison Ivy's voice. The real Poison Ivy.

No matter how similar the duplicate had been, Harley thought now, she/it had never quite gotten Ivy's melodious tones exactly right. The clone had almost always been cold in its mannerisms, even labeling humans as "meat bags", but this voice was warm and enticing.

Harley scanned in the direction of the voice, and began to move towards it when suddenly there was a rustling in the trees just ahead of her. She peered into the green, wondering just what was going on, when suddenly several branches shifted to the sides and smoothly lowered a shapely figure to the earth below.

A young woman about her height now stood in front of Harley, lightly dressed in a dark green tunic complete with matching sharp-tipped elbow-length gloves and ankle-high boots. Her straight, shoulder-length hair was redder than flame, and her mostly-exposed skin was a soft, translucent shade of whitish green.

Harley was taken aback, but pleased at the same time.

"Wow," she murmured, wondering if she should rub her eyes and do a double-take. "Is that you, Red?"

Ivy smiled wickedly and placed her hands on her trim hips.

"It's me, Harls," she said matter-of-factly with a small smile. "Looking better, you think?"

Harley nodded.

"It's the look I got used to," admitted Harley, who for a second wondered if she was staring at another clone, minus the wavy red hair the duplicate had sported at Harley's aborted wedding.

"But yeah, I like it, Red. How'd you switch back?"

"I took one of my cocktails," Ivy replied, Harley knowing full-well that Ivy was a whiz with chemistry, maybe even better than the Batman himself. "I brought it with me, sort of like an adrenaline shot for someone who suffers from life-threatening allergies, just in case something happened. The change happened even sooner than I expected, maybe because of what I did to myself in my earlier experiments. I guess it just jumpstarted whatever was lying dormant inside me. Luckily I had a spare costume stored here, too, and as you can see, many different kinds of plant seeds."

He voice was steady now, much more assured, and her smile was sly.

"I felt it was time to get back to business, and my old, original, human look just isn't me anymore. Don't you agree, my darlings?" she called out, looking around and raising her arms to the glass roof. As if manipulated by unseen strings, the plants and trees in her vicinity bent low towards Ivy and stayed that way, as if paying silent homage to their re-born queen.

Harley was glad to see Ivy acting normally, but the psychiatrist inside her wondered about her friend's frame of mind. She had been so pathetic just the day before, and she hoped that Ivy wasn't putting on some front just for her benefit.

"Are you OK, Red? You look great and seem good ..."

"... but am I just trying to cover things up?" Ivy finished.

Apparently some of my psychiatric know-how has rubbed off on her, Harley thought, as Ivy clasped her hands together and looked down at the earth somewhat sadly.

"I'm still not perfect, Harley. I miss Alec terribly, and I guess I will for a while." She looked like to was going to cry, but then she took a deep breath and stiffened, almost defiantly.

"I thought about what you said, though, and you were right, Harls. I can wallow in my own grief like some kind of weakling, or I can turn around and, if nothing else, live for revenge.

"And I'll tell you, the latter sounds a hell of a lot better to me."

Her hands separated and curled into fists, though she still stared at the soil.

"Grief doesn't make you weak, Pammie," said Harley. "It makes you human."

Ivy looked up with anger burning in her emerald eyes and creeping across her jade lips. Not anger at Harley, just the rest of the world and everybody else in it.

"Being human IS being weak, Harley!" she growled. "I tried being human, and look what it got me! Now I'm part-plant again, truly in touch with nature, and I know I should have just stayed this way! And now that I'm back, someone is going to pay dearly for upsetting my life!"

Her voice rose in tone, as if she was releasing all the anger within herself at once.

"I'm right where I belong, Harls, being what I should have been all along. And woe to the Bat, or anyone else who gets in my way and tries to cheat me of my revenge! Is Momma right, my dears?"

The fronds and ferns rose and bowed again to their vixen of vines, who seemed as sure of herself as ever, as if she had never left her Gotham gardens for her mundane lab job in Louisiana. She wasn't at full strength yet, not to the height of her powers from a few years back, but that would change with time and a few more injections, especially since she had always retained her natural immunity to toxins of any kind. She was again the living embodiment of the green, and she wondered why she had ever relinquished that power for the love of a human man. A good man, to be sure, she mused, but still, just a man.

And Ivy had almost always hated men, hated all humans for the crimes they perpetrated against the plant world - the deforestation, the stripping, the burning and even the lack of recycling. Now nature's protector was back, and it would only be a matter of time before every living piece of vegetation on earth bowed to her massive ego and to her formidable will.

Ivy's fists again tightened as a particularly sinister sneer crossed her gorgeous countenance, her eyes still ablaze with both hatred and the desire for vengeance. The confidence she felt at again manifesting her plant-based powers after so long was exhilarating. Let them beware, she thought, let all humanity beware of me, just as she looked up ...

... and saw Harley Quinn standing there, looking sheepish and perhaps a little bit fearful.

"That's great, Pammie," Harley said softly, twiddling her thumbs nervously. "I'm glad to see you looking so alive again, but ..."

Ivy looked at her friend, and her fearful, maddened visage quickly dissolved into a compassionate look of concern.

"But what, Harley? Please, don't be afraid, tell me."

Harley took a deep breath, held it in, exhaled and then got her thoughts out.

"I know I was no great host when you got here this week, Pammie, and I hope you can forgive me for that." She looked downtrodden, wondering how anyone could forgive her, but she pressed on.

"I just wanna know, when all's said and done, if there's gonna be a place for me in your big hate-on against humanity."

Ivy's mood became even more melancholy, and she motioned towards herself with one hand.

"Come here, Harley. It's OK, just walk over to me."

Harley hesitated for a second, wondering if Ivy was going to pay her back for her attack two days prior; but she also knew that if Ivy had wanted to trap her, then Harleen would have had plants all over her by now. Ivy had asked for her trust earlier this week, and now Harley felt she had to respond in kind, even as several escape scenarios played out in the back of her mind just in case Ivy wanted to begin her vengeance with her former partner-in-crime.

Harley took one nervous step forward, then another, and then another, until she had crossed over the ten feet between the two women and stood straight in front of her old friend.

Ivy smiled and gently placed her hands on Harley's shoulders, and Harley shuddered slightly in response. Ivy looked a tad dismayed, but she knew how Harley must have felt, how she had felt just two days ago when their positions were reversed, and now she had to assuage her friend's feelings and show her there was nothing to fear from her.

"Easy, baby, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," stated Ivy, who started to massage her friend's smooth red-and-black covered shoulders. She continued rubbing them until she felt Harley stop shaking, and then Ivy lifted her right hand up to Harley's cheek and rested it there softly, even lovingly.

"There will always be a place for you in my life, Harley - always. You took care of me these last few days when I needed you the most, even after all my lies and secrets of the past couple of years. You're my one true friend, and without you I really would give up."

She paused briefly, a small smile on her lips, and continued.

"I can't thank you enough for being here for me, Harls, and I want you to know I will always be there for you from now on. No more lies, no more clones, no more leaving you behind when things get too tight. If it means battling the Bat and going back to Arkham, so be it, but I won't abandon you ever again."

Harley looked up and smiled a bit, her left hand now settling gently on Ivy's inner right elbow.

"I'm glad, Red, I'm really glad to hear that, and I'm even happier to see you doing so good now - the real you, that is. And I'll always be there for you, too, Red, every step of the way." It looks as if everything's going to be good again, Harley thought. Thank god.

As if a switch had been thrown, Harley's grin then morphed into that familiar manic smile she got when she was excited, and her eyes looked slightly delirious as she concocted another impromptu off-the-wall plan just like she always had in the old days.

"So are we driving to Loo-easy-anna tonight, Ives? The airport and the train station are too dangerous to risk up here, and those clues down there ain't gonna last forever, not with all them coppers poking around," her Brooklyn accent coming out in her excitement

Ivy's face went blank, followed by a small frown. She was taken aback, not quite having expected this response, and then shook her head.

"You can't go with me, Harley," she admonished. "I can't put you at risk for something I have to do myself. I'd die if something happened to you, too."

"No dice, Red," replied Harley.

"Like you said, I'm a big girl and I hafta make my own choices," she said, "and now I choose to go with you. If nothing else, you're gonna need backup, especially since we don't know how many mooks you've got to take out."

Ivy flushed inwardly but frowned outwardly, not wanting to play this game of can-I-go.

"It's not going to be a fun trip," warned Ivy, wagging a finger. "I'm going to hurt people, Harley – I am going to hurt them badly, and most likely fatally."

Harley shrugged, as if she had expected Ivy to say that and didn't have a problem with it.

"We'll hurt them together, Pammie. No one hurts my pal Red without paying the price. You mess with Ivy, then you've gotta deal with Harley."

Ivy was touched, deeply touched by Harley's loyalty, but ...

"No, Harley, you can't. Please don't push me on this. I don't want you at risk."

But Harley persisted, stubborn as ever.

"Hey, life is all about risks, Red. There's no way I'm gonna stay behind and let my pal Pammie walk into what could be a trap, so just give me one good reason why I can't go.

"Just one," Harley stated as she held up an index finger.

She's loyal and she's got guts, Ivy thought. How did I ever leave her behind long ago - and how can I protect her now?

"Well," Ivy began, searching for a workable excuse. "Your costume will get too hot - that's it! Yes, you were overheated and miserable in it when we went down to the South American rainforest, and believe me, baby, the Bayou is just going to be another big hothouse."

Harley gently pulled away from Ivy and crossed her arms in front of her as the blonde smiled mockingly, as if to say 'Is that the best you can come up with?'

"You're reaching, Ives, but I'll be fine. Besides, this here is my summer suit!" Harley quipped, the former gymnast now rotating slowly on one foot, like a figure skater or a clockwork ballerina figurine that had just been wound up and released.

"Lightweight bulletproof Kevlar, mixed with a breathable titanium mesh weave, courtesy of my pal, The Tailor, costumer to the underworld. He ain't cheap, but he does great work. Hey, you want a new outfit, Ivy? I'll ask him, if you want."

Ivy shook her head and held her hand out as if to say "stop".

"No, no, I'm fine, Harley, thank you. I hardly wear anything compared to you. Besides, I don't want to announce to the world just yet that the real Poison Ivy is back in business."

"Not just Ivy," grinned Harley mischievously. "It's Harley and Ivy again, bay-bee - and that's the way it's always gonna be!"

Ivy smiled back - and then they embraced like two long-lost sisters who had had a terrible fight, realized how much they needed and loved one another, and had made up. Time would tell if it would be for good, but for now it was just like old times.

"Hey Red, do you still have that neat-o pink car, Rosebud?" Harley asked as she pushed back a bit from Ivy, recalling the vehicle they had used when they first met years ago and became Gotham's crime queens overnight. Ivy looked miffed.

"Actually, I brought her with me down south, Harls," she grimaced. "I'm pretty sure she just got blown to hell." One more strike against whoever Ivy was after.

Harley shrugged, still holding Ivy, who was still holding Harley.

"Nuts! I loved that little buggy. Oh well, we'll just use tool around in something else. C'mon, Red!" squeaked Harley as she took Ivy's hand and started walking towards the well-concealed garage located off to the side of the greenhouse.

"I got one of Mistah J's purple convertibles stashed here, Ives, all gassed up and ready to go. We can hit the road when night falls!"

Ivy was smiling contentedly now, just happy at Harley & Ivy being reunited again.

"Shotgun," she called, more than content to let Harley drive this time.

Harley didn't even look back, just started blabbing as she dragged Ivy along by one hand.

"Don't worry about that, Red! I'm bringing shotguns and grenade gum and exploding cigars and a whole mess of fun stuff with us!"

Harley then stopped and turned towards Ivy, one finger tapping against her own lips.

"Oh, wait, you meant the passenger seat ..."

Yes, thought Ivy humorously as she looked to the skies, we are definitely back to normal now, as she and Harley again started walking towards their conveyance and their future.

EPILOGUE

Something stirred in the Louisiana swamp that evening, something bubbled and brewed deep down in its dark, murky waters. It ascended slowly from the depths, eventually breaking the smooth, glassy surface in the shallows and rising nightmarishly into the pale yellow moonlight, a horrible caricature of humanity. A mossy, red-eyed figure in bipedal form, a shambling, muck-encrusted mockery of a man ...

But that is another story.

END

_Poison Ivy created by Robert Kanigher & Sheldon Moldoff. Harley Quinn created by Paul Dini & Bruce Timm._


End file.
